


Warm Sand

by patrochillin



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 19:12:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8590309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrochillin/pseuds/patrochillin
Summary: achilles and patroclus, in their early years of friendship in Phthia, share an intimate moment





	

Small, quick fish flitted around Patroclus' feet in the water. He flexed his toes, entranced by the movement and the sun glinting off of the water. He thought of Achilles, and the way his feet hit earth, agile and swift. And the water, like Achilles, with sun shining from his hair, the green seaweed floating is the sparkle of his eyes. Eventually, the fish scattered away, off into the ocean, out of Patroclus' sight.

He stood up off of the sand and stretched against a backdrop of pinks and oranges. It was almost nightfall, and Achilles had been meeting with his mother for hours. Patroclus occupied himself with dull games and observations, but he missed Achilles with a growing ache every second they were apart. The sun sank lower in the sky, and Patroclus worried that there was bad news, an argument, something that would keep him away from Achilles permanently.

Patroclus strolled to dinner, kicking sand up and calmly watching his surroundings. He liked to make note of the small things; the way a bird stood on a branch or the dark green of the grass against the pale sand. He filled his head with these memories, made sure that he soaked in all that could, in case it was one day taken from him. So he could always have it in his thoughts.

Achilles returned at dinner, minutes after it started, apologizing for being late. The foster boys' heads turned as he entered the room and their eyes followed him to his seat in unabashed admiration. Upon sliding in next to Patroclus, the boys looked back down to their meals and continued their conversation of such dreary things as the day's lesson and color of a girl's hair. Patroclus was elated by the presence of Achilles, and he settled in comfortably, lowering from his unease of the afternoon.

"Hello, Patroclus," Achilles smiled, and placed his hand on Patroclus' shoulder. Patroclus smiled in return, a true relief of knowing that his place next to Achilles was secure, even for a short while. They did not talk at first, as they were occupied with dinner. Patroclus did not ask about Achilles' meeting with Thetis, and Achilles did not mention it, so to Patroclus it was neither good nor bad news and did not matter to him. He cared about Achilles alone; he let that care overshadow the worry that he had, and the feeling of not belonging. They did not speak until their frenzy of hunger subsided, and time lapsed between each bite. Patroclus observed the dining hall, lit by dim torches and smelling of stone. He scanned his eyes over the other boys, then over the faded tapestries hanging on each wall. His hands were folded on the table, still and patient, until Achilles roused them. With a sure hand, Achilles laced his fingers through Patroclus' and rubbed his calloused thumb into the back of Patroclus' darker hand. Surprised, Patroclus smiled, showing teeth, and turned to Achilles. He smiled in return.

"I was gone so long today. What did you do? How were you?" Achilles placed his other hand over their grasped ones, squeezing gently. Patroclus' head spun. He took a second to focus in on their hands, then up Achilles' arm and neck and to his face. He settled on Achilles' sea green eyes. He had never felt such a deep connection with anyone, not even his mother, and now Patroclus was embedded into this godly boy who he had only known for a short time. Every move Achilles made awed Patroclus, every word he said captivated him.

"Oh, nothing too spectacular. I went down to the beach for a walk."

"Hm, that's it? I wish I could have joined you. Make it more interesting."

"Really? I didn't think you'd be entertained by something so boring."

"Silly Patroclus. I would be entertained doing anything with you."

Before Patroclus could process this comment, the boys were hurried to clean up their dishes and head through the long, cold corridors and up to their bed chambers. Achilles and Patroclus left first, followed by a chorus of chatter and laughter and the stomping of feet. Achilles was no longer holding Patroclus' hand, and Patroclus felt a sense of loss, like a phantom limb. He yearned to reach to his side and secure Achilles to him. Achilles was only inches away- and yet he could not reach. The other boys filtered to their rooms, and Achilles and Patroclus steadied on to their own at the end of the hall, walking silently through the wooden doors and shutting them tightly behind them. Finally, they were alone, together, undisturbed by the demands of their lives.

They undressed, throwing their dirty white clothes into a basket to be washed. They settled into bed together, under thin blankets to shield from the wind drifting through the windows. They lay awake, and Achilles traced a finger around Patroclus' shoulder.

Patroclus, only 13 years of age, was lanky and awkwardly proportioned. He felt inferior laying in bed next to the actual son of a god, whose skin was smooth and taught against a toned frame, whose features were soft like a girl's and sculpted perfectly. These things, Patroclus thought, paled in comparison to Achilles' mind: his thoughtfulness, caring, intellect. Patroclus yearned to become a part of this boy, to become enveloped in his perfection and solid warmth. Glancing to his side, he noticed that Achilles was watching him. Patroclus turned his head fully and locked eyes with Achilles.

"You have a lovely face, Patroclus." Achilles smiled sweetly, nudging closer to Patroclus. Patroclus sighed, happily accepting the other boy's warmth.

"Do I?" Patroclus responded, clumsily. "I could say the same about you." In a move of boldness, Patroclus placed his hand on Achilles' chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing and the beating of his heart. Achilles brought his hand up match. Their faces were becoming ever closer, but neither boy was brave enough to close the gap.

"How long have you been staying with me, Patroclus?" Achilles asked. Patroclus had to think for a moment.

"About two years, why?"

"It feels like forever. It feels like a thousand forevers that will never end."

"Forevers already never end, Achilles." Patroclus giggled, lightly knocking his forehead into Achilles'. Achilles laughed as well, and shifted under the blankets. Patroclus was further aware of their nakedness, their closeness, now so familiar after such a long time together.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Patroclus. You make me endlessly happy." Achilles' face was earnest, sincere. Patroclus was nearly overwhelmed by his love, which was so lacking from his father and mother. Genuinely, he felt the same as Achilles, like their bond had been tied in an unsolvable knot. It was almost indescribable, how comfortable Achilles was. He simply felt like home.

"Me, too." Patroclus said. He thought of his worries of earlier, that Thetis was driving a wedge between them, that something or someone would take his Achilles away from him. He no longer saw Achilles as the fleeting fish, but rather as the sand: constant, warm, reliable, endless. These words could not be said now, but maybe years in the future, he would share with Achilles, his uncertainty. The water now was too perfect to muddy.

"Do you love me?" Achilles asked. The hand that was not over Patroclus' was moved to grip his hip, sending a chill down Patroclus' spine.

"Of course I love you, of course I love you, Achilles!" Patroclus pressed his fingers into Achilles' chest, unable to articulate his surging feelings. He didn't have to. Achilles looked fleetingly into Patroclus' eyes, then down to his lips.

"I love you too." Achilles hesitated briefly, and the air stood still. Patroclus now understood this surge of feeling, what it really was. The two boys moved forward at the same time, pressing their lips together with urgency and power. Achilles' grip tightened on Patroclus' hip. They felt a wave of pleasure wash over them, and of relief. Finally, they had admitted, to themselves and each other, how much the other truly meant to them. The kiss lasted a few more seconds, until they separated to breathe. Achilles pulled Patroclus to him, gently, wrapping the smaller boy in his arms. Achilles sighed into Patroclus' hair, and Patroclus basked in the simple joy of being enfolded in his best friend's warmth and security. They said nothing more, understanding that nothing more needed to be said. Soon, they fell asleep. Their hearts beat mutually and their breaths escaped as one.

In the morning, they would walk on the beach together, happy and sure. They would finally catch the small, agile fish, and bask in the golden sunlight on the hot, white sand.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! this is my first fan fiction published on ao3 (though not my first fic) and i wanted to keep it sweet and short. any comment or criticism is welcome! love to all. :)


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